


still life

by gymthree



Category: Paper Roses (Webcomic)
Genre: 5K contest entries, Contest, Fortune Telling, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mess, Music, Sketching, Slightly Out Of Character, music makers, old sketch of hiro sleeping, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gymthree/pseuds/gymthree
Summary: cause in the mess of thorns and petals and dew, they planted roses. paper roses.





	1. gone

**Author's Note:**

> These are my pieces for the 5K contest! Five entries, each chapter is a different story. I hope it's appreciable.

They stopped.

Hiro pinched his arm repeatedly and felt tears blooming in his eyes. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fucking dream! He’d already accepted death, and now…

The roses were gone.

-

Hiro had felt like a freak because of the roses since the very beginning, months ago. Anyone would if roses started growing in and around your lungs. Even worse, their cause - unrequited love! It’s a movie story scenario, something Hiro could possibly find in an anime, but he’d never even dream that he’d be able to experience.

The diagnose said ‘Hanahaki disease’ was what he had. He’d never heard of it, but Yuki had. She explained it to him, along with the doctor; flowers bloom in your lungs if you suffer from one-sided love. It doesn’t happen to everyone who loves and isn’t reciprocated, but it happens to some people - and it happened to Hiro. It’s a mortal illness, killing you if they grow enough to clog up your respiratory system. It can be removed by surgery, or it can disappear if the feelings become mutual.

Yuki knew he loved Akio.

She advised him not to tell.

He already wasn’t going to.

How can you tell your childhood best friend that you love him, as so much more than a friend, and that you might die because of him? How can you even look him in the face knowing that you love him so fucking much and he doesn’t love you back?

Akio ran up to hug him when he entered the hospital’s waiting room. Hiro couldn’t hug him back; he felt limp and wrong in his best friend’s arms.

“Hey, are you okay?” Akio had asked, genuine worry in his voice.  _ Not fucking fair _ , Hiro thought.

“Just a bit shaken up.”

“What happened? What is it?”

Akio wasn’t stupid, nor heartless. If Hiro told him that he had a disease caused by unrequited love, it wouldn’t take too long for him to deduce that he was the object of affection. He’d probably feel guilty for not loving Hiro back, even though he wasn’t at fault. It’d ruin him, he’d lose his pure and adorable innocence, positivity, happiness. Hiro could never do that.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing? There are roses in you, Hiro!”

“It’s nothing,” Hiro mumbled, walking past Akio and towards the exit. His hand was closed in a tight fist, and he held back from exploding. A hated tear rolled down his cheek.

He felt weak and vulnerable. He felt like a loser in front of the one he should protect.

-

“Hiro? Are you up?”

Hiro checked his tear-stained face in the mirror, and then looked down at his chest again. No bumps, no stem. The flowers were really gone. No more coughing roses, no more sweating cold in the middle of the night, no more head turning purple because he couldn’t breathe.

All because of one person’s feelings. All because…

“Yeah, Akio. I’m up.”

The door was almost silent as it opened, and Akio’s footsteps too. If his ears weren’t trained, or his hearing - and every other sense - extra capable, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the boy entering his room. Well, maybe he would’ve sensed it, butterflies in his stomach, flowers in his lungs--

Oh, right.

Those were gone.

Hiro turned around and leant back against the sink, running his hand through his hair and looking down. What would he say? What would he do, how to react to knowing that all of a sudden, his feelings weren’t that one-sided anymore?

Akio silently got in the bathroom, instantly looking for Hiro’s eyes and face.

“Hey, were you crying?” Akio asked, voice quiet and uncertain. Worry was stamped on his face, and his eyes showed that he was clearly nervous. Hiro looked at him, and something within him melted, he softened, and what he felt for the boy in front of him nudged him in the ribs.

“It’s--,” he sighed, and took a deep breath. That didn’t matter. There was something more important to be discussed between them. “Akio, do you love me?”

“W-what? Of course I do, Hiro, you’re my best f--”

Hiro knew the answer, but still, he wanted to hear it from Akio’s lips. He wrapped his hand around the younger boy’s wrist and pulled him closer, forcing him to look up, making their eyes meet.

“Akio. You know what I mean. Do you love me? As more than just your best friend?”

“I--” Akio looked away, and a blush crept up his face. The air between the two of them solidified, both tense. He looked up again, and there was some sort of confidence in his eyes, something that definitely wasn’t there before. “It was me, wasn’t it?”

“Huh?” Hiro widened his eyes, surprised. That wasn’t the sort of reply he was expecting. Akio had always been bold, but now he expected him to… What, actually? What did he expect? “What do you mean?”

Akio raised his hand to rub the back of his neck, and only then Hiro noticed he hadn’t let go of his wrist. Embarrassed, he released it. “I was the cause to your roses, wasn’t I?”

“Well, yeah,” Hiro popped his lips and looked around, avoiding Akio’s eyes. Naturally, Akio held onto Hiro’s jaw and turned his face around, standing on his tiptoe to look into Hiro’s eyes from the same height.

“Good. Because I love you, Hiro.”


	2. graphite

The scratch of mechanical pencil lead on paper wasn’t unusual in the house, but still, it attracted attention. Hiro and Akio were the only people there, and as the first one kept quiet in his room, watching anime with earplugs, the other sketched, sitting on the stairs outside.

Eventually, Hiro decided it was about time to take a break. Get some water, stand up, do something other than sit through way too many episodes of old, colourful anime.

Birds tweeted outside, but the noise that got to him was accompanied by a defined figure, sitting on the steps leading to the backyard. Akio was wearing a large, old white shirt, and it hung loosely from his back. A tiny messy ponytail stood out from the rest of his hair in the back of his head.

“What’re you doing?” Hiro asked, getting closer. Too close, maybe; Akio didn’t seem to notice.

“Just sketching this rose- ah!” he turned around and jumped, startled. His sketchbook fell down the stairs, loose pieces of paper flying out from inside it. Ashamed of what he’d done, even if it was an accident, Hiro hurried to help Akio pick it all up.

He froze after seeing the first sketch.

It was him.

A sketch of him, on thin paper, corners folded and with a little coffee stain on the very border. It was rough, but still very good - although it couldn’t compare to Akio’s current art since he had improved a lot since the making of that, it was still fantastic. Hiro looked at his image and saw peace in his sleeping body, transferred to the paper by quick graphite lines.

Maybe his eyes were tearing up; he wasn’t sure. He got too lost in the flow of the drawing, too lost to notice how his body was reacting, too lost to hear if Akio was calling, too lost to respond at all. He felt something, something dense and heavy growing and growing from the pit of his stomach, up. It was a feeling he couldn’t recognise, like a flame lit up by an unknown spark, taking up all of him, burning him down and all around, turning into a fire.

“...iro! Hiro?!”

“Huh?” Hiro blinked, brought back from the fire inside of him. Akio was close, very close, left hand on his right shoulder and right hand on his face. His thumb moved forward and backwards on his cheek, a nice soothing pattern, and Hiro felt a trail of tears just above the thumb’s reach. Oh. So he cried.

“Hiro, are you okay?” Akio asked, raising both his eyebrows and tilting his face, face so soft and so sweet Hiro felt his heart melt inside that fire that hadn’t worn out.

He glanced down to the sketch and looked up to meet Akio’s eyes once again. “I am. I’m… Can I keep this?”

Akio’s eyes widened when he saw the paper Hiro showed him, and he blushed, so overbearingly cute. He looked away, and - although it seemed impossible - he got even cuter, looking down to the ground, cheeks pink like roses, hair falling in curls and waves, escaping the ponytail that tried to control it. Rebellious, Hiro thought. Rebelliously cute.

“I-I mean, sure, if you want to… It’s not even that good, I bet I can make something better--”

“Would you?”

“What?” Looking up, Akio’s eyes were still wide open.

“Would you make something better? A redraw, or a new piece, or whatever?”

“I could,” Akio frowned, hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“If you want to, then I’m around, y’know. As always.”

Silence fell between them for a couple of seconds, but Hiro knew how to break it.

“Can I keep it anyway? The sketch?”

“Sure,” the younger boy looked away again as if something extremely interesting was on the grass.

Hiro smiled at the sketch in his hands, folding and unfolding the corners. He felt something really warm inside, an amount of love and affection and happiness he couldn’t deal with. He wasn’t used to it! Just smiling as wide as he was was already odd, felt strange, but… Feeling so soft, so tender towards someone… It was too raw, too sensitive for him. Unusual, but not unwelcome.

“Thanks, Akio,” he said, voice low as a whisper. Should he do something? Be affectionate, peck Akio on the cheek? Pat his shoulder?  _ What should he do? _

“It’s not a big deal. You’re welcome, I guess,” Akio blushed, and bit his lower lip.

_ Fuck. _

Hiro sometimes wished he knew what to do.


	3. roses red as blood

“Ack,” Hiro hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Stop. Stay still,” Akio said, voice completely indifferent, as he kept wiping the blood off of Hiro’s skin with a wet cloth.

Always getting himself into fights, always so careless about his health, life and wellbeing. Hiro was becoming more and more predictable, but Akio a bit, too. He was always there for the aftercare, he always cleaned his best friend up, bandaged him, and all of what came along with that. Truly, he cared, he got worried, so he took care of Hiro. To make sure he’d still be okay; to make sure he’d still be alive.

He drenched the cloth in the jar of water again, eyes falling on the roses by its side for a second. Fucking excuses, that’s what they were. Excuses for Hiro rushing into the room, all beaten up and usually bleeding, and Akio having to find whatever way was the quickest to clean and take care of the injuries. Usually, that included wetting a cloth in the water of the next-day flowers Hiro brought as excuses, apologies. Red roses, most the time. Roses red as blood, as his blood.

“What happened this time?”

“I didn’t do anything! These guys came up to me… Said I had been looking for trouble. Two versus one isn’t a fair fight, but I won anyway. Just got- FUCK! -hurt.”

“Stop complaining, and stop lying,” Akio rolled his eyes, going back to the cut above Hiro’s eyebrow, where the blood didn’t stop coming out. “You surely did something. But I don’t get why they don’t give up on fighting you, you always win.”

“Stubborn fuckers, these guys. They always are,” Hiro sighed. Akio was holding onto his jaw tight, turning his face in his direction. “They don’t really have brains, but they’re hard-headed, as fuck. Hard to conversate.”

“You’re not that much better. You explode and you don’t listen, fool. And get into fights too easily.”

“Thankfully I’ve got someone to take care of me afterwards, then.”

Akio stopped talking for some time. He wasn’t sure of how to react to that, he wanted to say so much, he wanted to say things that had been trampled and locked in the pit of his stomach for so long.  _ Someone to take care of you. I’m always taking care of you, Hiro, ‘cause I care about you. A lot. More than normal best friends do.  _ Distressed, he worked silently, washing and wiping and wrapping.

“Akio?”

“What?” He said, not looking up, trying to force his voice into as much of an indifferent tone as possible. Was it possible?

“Are you- Is everything- Okay?”

“Yeah,” he looked up and raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it cool, but failing miserably.

Hiro’s face was soft. Worried, and soft. He wanted to cup his face and kiss every square millimetre of skin, make him feel loved and special and… Show him how much he did care for him. How far he was willing to go to take care of him, how much… How much his heartbeat genuinely quickened when he saw the injuries and the blood, how he thanked whatever stronger force - God? Fate? Multiple godlings? - that he was still alive, and well, as far as it went. Alive. Hiro was alive, and that’s all Akio needed to have peace.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. With me, at least,” Akio sighed and looked down again, biting on his lower lip slightly and holding back exaggerated feelings, “because you don’t seem too fine. Let me fix you up already.”

“Fine, fine,” Hiro said, flinching right after, when Akio pulled the bandages tighter, hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. “Could you just be a little bit more gentle, dear?”

“Fuck off,” the younger one muttered under his breath. What right did Hiro have to call him dear? Why did he?  _ Fucking shit… _ “No, Hiro, I can’t.”

“What, are you impersonating the idiots that beat me up, now? What’s up?”

“Stop, Hiro.”

“Stop what? What did I do?! Why’re you all weird now, how did I fuck things up this time? I’m always fucking things up, couldn’t wait for you to-”

“Shut up, Hiro.”

“-notice that, and now I’m fucking things up with you too! I’m a fucking machine made for this, aren’t I? Built to disappoint people and angry them and ruin every single fucking thin-”

Honestly, Akio should’ve known. There’s no way to shut a ranty Hiro up. The other times that happened, he usually just sighed and waited for him to run out of breath, or things to say - took a while, but he had no better option. This time, no; he was fucking sick. Sick of all of those stupid things Hiro said, just because he got fired up. Half of them weren’t true, and Akio wasn’t going to sit through all of that one more time. Nah, not again.

So he shut him up, the first way that came to mind.

He only noticed there was a cut in Hiro’s lips when they were against his and, for a second, the metalic taste of blood was identifiable on his tongue, but in the next second his brain was already working too hard to focus on  _ that. _

Kiss! Why a kiss? Surely there was some other way to shut Hiro up. Was there? There should be. Stupid feelings, overlapping  _ rational  _ thoughts and  _ reason.  _ Making a mess, another mess Akio would have to clean up, just-

Hiro put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled Akio closer, by a bit, with his less injured arm, his left arm. Stumbling, almost tripping, but not stopping the kiss, Akio climbed onto the bed, too shy to throw one leg over to the other side of Hiro’s body and sit on his lap, so just awkwardly kneeling on the edge of the mattress, slightly uncomfy, but not too badly. He didn’t mind. He was busy.

Took them a while to come apart, breathless, searching for air and huffing, breaths puffing, mixing, swirling in mid-air.

“Fucking finally,” Hiro smirked, smiled, almost chuckling, but holding back.

“What?” Akio widened his eyes, unable not to smile.

“C’mon, Akio… I’ve, I’ve been waiting for this for a while. Hoping- Dreaming of this for a while.”

“If I weren’t too worried about your injuries maybe it would’ve come sooner.”

“If I knew how to get your attention when I’m not hurt, maybe I wouldn’t be getting injured all the time.”

Akio breathed an airy laugh and rolled his eyes, draping his leg to the other side of the other boy’s body and sitting on his lap, confident.

“You always have my attention, fool. Now stop getting into fights. You know you’ll get my attention nonetheless.”

“Maybe I like getting into fights now. I’m a stubborn fucker, ain’t I?”

“Shut up, Hiro,” Akio smiled, kissing him again, and shutting him up for good.


	4. rosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure the roses part is as clear in this one, how i put the roses in the story, so - rosen means roses in german. i think that counts?

_Just tonight!,_ Yuki had said. ‘Tonight’ was going to turn into a morning, Akio knew. He wouldn’t go to a rock concert if he could choose, even more those underground ones, with loud music and too many people in a dark and small space. He was a soft EDM kind of person, a fan of keys and synth. Not basses, drums and electric guitars. He liked the sort of thing you stay at home to listen, when you plug in your headphones and just chill. Akio would definitely refuse a warm place, sweaty people and screamed lyrics cramped up with loud instruments.

For the first time in that night, Yuki came his way. She was tripping on her own feet, clearly tipsy, but her face seemed serious. She almost fell face flat onto Akio’s shoulder, and he held onto her shoulders to help her regain balance.

“Heyy, Yuki. Are you okay?”

“Wh-yeah, yeah! I’m great. But, have you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“The bassist has got his eyes on you,” she whispered next to his ear, strong smell of alcohol immediately getting to Akio, and making him involuntarily tighten his grip on her. His eyes scanned the stage and looked for the instrument with four strings, to then find the person playing it-

Oh.

The bassist wasn’t ugly, for sure - he was nice looking, actually. His jet black hair seemed wild, falling on his face and spiking at the back of his neck, but it wasn’t in a bad way. It fell nicely within his composition as a whole. His ears were pierced and large, black plug earrings intensifying the punk rocker look to him. His eyes were set on Akio, and he still played the bass effortlessly, but perfectly. Not out of tune, and still complementing the melody as it should.

“He’s good,” Akio said, unintentionally reproducing his thoughts out loud. Face immediately burning red, he was glad he had Yuki there, because she smiled, and took his attention away from the man checking him out on stage.

“He’s been checking you out ever since we got here, and you needed me to come here and tell you? Aw, Akio. Your little sister is so ahead of you!” She raised her bottle of a clear, but strong smelling liquid, and almost fell back. Vodka? It seemed stronger than simple vodka, because Yuki wasn’t a lightweight, and she only lost her physical balance like that when she got pretty drunk. Akio took it from her and sighed, placing it on the counter behind him.

“Whatever, Yuki. We don’t have time for this. You’re drunk, let’s go home.”

“But we just got here! Come on, Akio. Let’s have some fun.”

“‘Just got here’ two hours ago. I don’t want you to pass out. Let’s go.”

Before Yuki managed to reply with some sort of negative answer,  _ again _ , the song ended and a new voice rose through the speakers, but not singing.

“Thaaaank you,  _ Rosen _ ,” the presenter said, jumping on stage and taking his place beside Rosen’s vocalist, mic in hand. “That was an amazing performance! Give it up, everyone!” Everyone clapped and cheered, but the siblings next to the bar were watching the bassist, as he ran his hand through his hair and let it stop at the back of his neck, changing his position so that his weight was centred in one foot. His gaze fell back on Akio, and the ghost of a smile brightened up his face.

The short presenter kept saying something as the band went offstage.  _ Nice, now I can leave _ , Akio thought. Sure, a part of him wanted to stay and talk to the bassist, but  _ priorities.  _ His sister was drunk, and he needed to take her home.  _ Priorities. _

“Okay. Now since that’s over and he’s gone, we can go home, right, Yuki?”

“N-no! C’mon, Akio. I’m fine. I really am.”

“Mnope,” Akio sighed, draping his sister’s arm around his shoulder and wrapping his arm around her waist, as support. “We’re going-”

“YOU!”

Startled, Akio slowly turned his head around, like in the movies. Eyes open wide, eyebrows shot up. Cliché.

“You,” a person huffed, body bent and hands on their knees for support. They had short blue hair and dark skin, both glowing in the dim lights of the place. “Hiro- Asked me to give you this… I suppose you’re the cute boy with wavy hair at the back? You’re- We’re…”

Blushing, Akio swallowed. He assumed Hiro was the bassist watching him, and smiled, taking a piece of paper from the person’s hand. “Thank you. I- Think I am.”

“Thank fuck,” the person laughed, and left.

“I think that’s our cue,” Akio sighed, leading his sister and himself outside.

“Not before you read the fucking note,” Yuki chanted, putting her head on Akio’s shoulder. “We can leave afterwards. Fine.”

His hands were shaking; he hadn’t noticed, but when Akio went to open the folded piece of paper, he found his hands shaking and his fingers hesitant. Took him some time to unfold it and read the scribbled words - it was dark and he was finding it very difficult to focus on something with the whirlwind in his stomach.

A phone number and an H. Hiro’s phone number, and-

“Let’s go!” Akio half-screamed, melting inside, face bright red and limbs suddenly working fullpower.

-

_ Coward. _

Yuki had told him he was a fucking pussy the day after, but he knew that already. She said it laughing, before taking a generous sip of water and groaning - a monstrous headache and a hangover, blend it all and serve cold.

Of course Akio didn’t have the courage to text or call Hiro, even though his saved number stared at him again and again.  _ Hiro Rosen.  _ He wished there was a profile picture, a definitive recordation of the boy with half-spiky black hair and plugged ears. He could forget his face, his looks, how he looked so attractive with white light hitting his face indirectly, his eyes stuck on Akio as if his gaze was tattooed to him-

Focus. Crap, it was hard to focus. Akio had songs to deliver, deadlines to obey. Truly, his own mind was the biggest distraction. He didn’t procrastinate or try to do too many things at once, no, he simply got too lost in his own thoughts and daydreams. He was probably going to have a performance in a couple of weeks, if the email he’d received earlier was true and going to happen.

Doubt clouded his mind, and so he clicked away from the program he was currently working on and clicked open his email inbox. There it was,  _ Big Bang Festival.  _ Six music genres, one artist of each, at least. It’d be a 12-hour show, two hours for each performance. He’d been invited for the dance/electro spot, but he had to answer within the next 24 hours to be confirmed. He only had 17 hours and a bunch of minutes now, actually.

In theory, he was going to deliver an EP the next week, which would be great for the festival. Three songs were done, one was almost finished and two were written - not that he exactly wrote his songs, they were more… Planned. He played some stuff, got some voice recordings and remixed it all into one piece. Usually took him two, three days, sometimes less, sometimes more. He had enough time, definitely. He had enough time if he’d just fricking  _ focus. _

Sighing, he gave up on just trying to focus all by himself; that wasn’t going to work. Akio stood up and closed his laptop, leaving the room and heading to the kitchen. A cup of tea wouldn’t do any harm, instead, maybe it’d only be of help.

Hopefully.

Only when he got to the kitchen he noticed it was raining outside. The drip-drip-drip ticking against the window was inspiring and soothing, and made him smile. He felt like he’d be able to do it now. Finish the songs, and everything. Play at the festival. Text Hiro.

-

He didn’t.

Well, actually, Akio did finish the songs, and he was going to play at the festival. But he didn’t text nor call Hiro, which was predictable. A fucking pussy, as Yuki had said. She wouldn’t have said that normally, but she was still affected by the booze, probably. Hangover Yuki was a mix of emotions, upset and groaning but also sincere and light. Normal Yuki was also all of that, without the sincere part. She hid the lightness, she hid all of that, and became a bittersweet girl. Conquered everyone’s hearts, but a bittersweet girl nonetheless.

She invited herself to the festival before Akio could actually talk to her and invite her to go. She wasn’t going to miss on her big brother’s work, obviously. It wasn’t his first time performing for a crowd, in a festival, but this one was the biggest yet, and he had a whole new setlist. A few remixes, but mostly original songs - all of the new ones, and some others.

He felt like he was about to puke.

Akio was nervous; he felt like being pushed into the ground by the pressure of playing in front of a crowd that most probably didn’t know him and could possibly not have one single soul interested in what he was going to play, only in other music genres and artists. He was just one boy, just another person making jams from their rooms, in their laptops, just pushing and mushing together what sounded good and hoping for the best.

He didn’t do it meaning to reach a crowd, to gather people who would actually listen to every song he put out, people who cared for and appreciated it all. He wasn’t even that good, he’d never expected to reach any sort of success. Yes, he did pour his heart into what he made, put his feelings on the computer throughout noises and sounds, but- It was him. Usually, raw and true him wasn’t something people were deeply interested in.

“Akio! Earth to Akio?”

“Huh?”

Yuki laughed, and pointed at the park on the other side of the bus window. There was a stage in the very end of it, and people were sitting all around it. A tent was set up and everyone was underneath it, the stage having its own tent. Akio was used to things like this, but he wouldn’t think a rock or rap show would take place in somewhere like this - so soft, light, easy… It did make sense that those shows were the last ones, after it got dark, and Akio would go right before rock. He didn’t know who was the artist playing after him, but he was excited to know.

“We’re here.”

The bus stopped, and the siblings stood up to go out. Akio had a large bad thrown around his shoulder, with his launchpad, laptop and some extra stuff thrown all around, like water, some little snacks, money, wires, ID, etcetera etcetera. Anxiety had carved a whole through his stomach, and he couldn’t feel his legs. Oh, frick.

His sister left him halfway to the tent behind the stage, where he’d been told the artists would wait. Everyone was supposed to arrive before the festival started, even if their shows were the last. He felt like he was late, even though he’d checked his clock and he was five minutes early.  _ Chill, Akio. Just chill. Just get in the tent, speak to the organiser and- _

“Fancy seeing you around here.”

The voice was ice cold against the back of his neck, like a goosebump. It wasn’t unwelcome, even less when the boy actually turned around and saw who was its owner.

_ Hiro Rosen. _

From a bassist in dim light to a contact on his phone to a man casually sitting on the stairs, Hiro was distinguishable. He was a black and white movie, he was like a fictional character brought to reality, like the night sky in all its darkness and brightness. He was light and shadows, contrast, low voice and tall height, he was this aura of strength and mystery and  _ something else.  _ Like energy, like static running through his veins, like he was this embodiment of some sort of power. He was like a song, like wind running through a field of poppies, like rain after a hot day of summer.

“Hi,”Akio said, flustered.  _ Hi. Good one, Akio. Loser. FuckING LOS- _

“You never did call. Or text. I thought you didn’t care- Do you?”

“Ah! I do! I just- Didn’t know what to say, or anything like that. Kinda shy, you know how it is.”

“Says the boy about to perform in a stage for a few hundreds of people.”

“Sorry,” Akio sighed, nervous.

“It’s fine,” Hiro smiled, and tilted his head playfully, defiantly, daringly, gracefully, witfully- “just don’t run away now.”

“I’ll- I won’t. Don’t worry,” Akio smiled back, and felt tingling in the back of his neck, in the pit of his suddenly replaced stomach.

“Good. I’m glad.”

His stomach mortal jumped and messily landed.

Akio suddenly wanted to puke again.


	5. strength of will

Truly, the whole fortune reading, tarot cards, crystal balls and tea leaves thing fascinated Akio. Some people said fortune tellers were liars, scammers, but he wouldn’t trust that. He did it for the fun, for the dark tents and the strong smell of incense and sometimes coffee, or alcohol. For heavy gold coins falling on weak tables, for bony fingers with rings half their sizes, for the mess of cheap silky fabrics in dark corners, for voices calling customers and almost unreadable cardboard signs. For the adrenaline rush it gave him, the hopes of being able to see into the future, to know what to do what would happen how to feel-

“I see a strong person in your life.”

The raspy voice of the gipsy called Akio’s attention back to her, and he widened his eyes, suddenly fully focused on her and what she said.

“Strong, not just physically. Their heart is strong, determined. Their mind is decisive and clever. They’re filled with strength of will, this person.” The hag sighed, and slumped back into her squeaky wooden stool. “You’re in love with them, aren’t you, boy?”

“What?”

Akio wasn’t used to be asked questions. Fortune tellers liked to pretend they could predict everything about you, they didn’t need to ask questions, they had the answers already - he knew that was bullshit, yeah. They just never asked questions. Normal. Why did she…?

“Am I?”

“Of course you are. Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you didn’t know.” She raised her finger and poked into Akio’s chest, pushing him back slightly. “Your heart beats harder for this strong willed person. Be honest here, kid.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

_ Lies.  _ Hiro, of course. Hiro was the strongest person Akio knew. His  _ pappa _ had brought Hiro home after the war; he was a refugee, a foreigner, this stranger with the most determination and strength Akio had ever seen. Years after, after  _ pappa _ ’s death, Hiro told him that he’d never seen a family as kindhearted as Akio’s - even Yuki, who had something against Hiro, wasn’t absolutely rude to him. He told stories of his home country, of people with black eyes and yellow teeth, beggars and liars and thieves. No one had empathy, mercy, compassion. They were dry and cold and worn out, lost souls abandoned in the desert at midnight.

“Kid. Stop. You’re not fooling me,” the fortune teller sighed again and started playing with the ring in her finger, twisting it to one side, to the other, turning it one way, the other. The green stone was never still, and watching the movements was making Akio dizzy. “I’ve been working like this for too long. I’ve become a lie detector. I can see, the way your face does that thing,” she pointed, indicated something in the air, not clearly but making some sort of gesture, “and you fiddle with your hands, and you repeat things, and you- Y’know, y’know what I’m talking about, boy.”

Akio didn’t.

“Anyway,” the woman blinked and inched forward, leaning over the table and gesturing for Akio to come closer. Hesitant, he did, and felt as her puffy voice whispered against his ear. “Go for it, kid. He’s strong, but he’s not gonna do it if you don’t.”

She smiled and sat back in her place, that yellow, faked smile only hags like that could give. It meant that they were done there.

Rolling his eyes ever-so-slightly, Akio was holding back laughter, honestly. He smiled and stood up, picking up fat silver coins from his pocket, and spreading them on her table, on top of the roses stamped fabric, white roses mingling and intertwining on top of a dark background. It was a pretty fabric, in fact. Maybe it could be in a better place than the dark, sweaty tent of a fortune teller, but who was he to say anything.

“Thank you,” he said, turning around to leave.

“No, thank you! Come again sometime. Update me.”

Partly, Akio wanted her to fuck off. He wouldn’t tell her that, because he was kinder than that, but he undeniably wanted to. Partly, he was thankful. Maybe now he’d have the courage to do something, say something to Hiro, confess, whatever. Something.  _ Anything. _

He was drowned in thought all throughout the way home, hands in his pants’ pockets and mind drifting away more and more the closer he got to his house. Scenarios of both rejection and reciprocity danced in his head, and the doubt in him blossomed. Should he tell Hiro? Tell him that since the first day they met, he felt something different towards him? Nothing platonic, nor fraternal. Feelings. Actual romantic feelings. Stupid romantic feelings.

It was all pretty stupid; he felt like he was pretty stupid, too. It’d be better if he just checked, said that he liked Hiro, kissed him, showed his affection in someway and just saw what the other boy felt. Better than wondering, doubting, suffering. He’d just get it all over with. Yuki would do something like that, probably.

Yuki could help him, couldn’t she?

Akio rushed inside the house, knowing Yuki would be in her room. He waited by the door and breathed deeply once before knocking.

“Come in!” His sister’s muffled voice said from the other side of the door.

Hesitant, Akio opened the door. Yuki was sitting on her bed, painting her nails baby pink. She seemed to be struggling, and he tried hard not to laugh. She looked at him, annoyed, and sighed.

“I’m not good at painting my own nails, okay? Do you want me to paint yours?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. It was a good excuse to stay in the room and talk to her, and he didn’t mind it anyway.

He walked over to the bed and sat on the ground, placing his hand over the mattress. In no time, his sister held his fingers carefully and applied a few layers of nail polish to each nail.

“So. What brought you here?”

“Well,” Akio said, apprehensive. “I was just in town, and I happened to go to those fortune telling places… Tents… Things. You know, I like it every once in awhile, it’s fun.”

“What’d you get?”

“She told me… There’s this strong willed person in my life. Just strong, too, I guess, but what got to me was strong willed. Mostly. She said, there’s a strong willed person in my life, and I’m in-”

“It’s not news that you’re in love with Hiro, Akio. Did you really waste money on that?”

Yuki picked up his other hand as he widened his eyes and looked up at her. All she did to reply was giggle.

“You should talk to  _ him  _ about that. Indirectly confess. I’m sure he’ll take the hint. If he doesn’t, I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you- sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. You two should get together already, I’m getting bored.”

“Y- pff. You’re getting bored? That’s why I should talk to Hiro?”

“Yeah!” She smiled, face bright. “I-”

“Yuki, have you seen Ak-” Hiro walked towards the room but stopped by the threshold, seeing the boy sitting on the ground, “-io.”

“Here he is,” she said, smiling even wider, a light teasing in her voice that only Akio could detect. “You two can talk, I’m done here.”

Akio brought his hands close to his eyes and admired the well-done nails, happy with the result. Turning towards Hiro, he stood up and walked towards the taller man, determined.

“Hey. So, what’s up?”

“I was just-,” he looked down, and up again, “wondering where you were. Just curious.”

“I went to town, went to see a fortune teller, y’know, those things. Can I tell you about it?”

“Yeah. Yes, sure, I mean. Yeah.”

Akio gestured for him to enter the room and both of them sat on the bed, facing each other.

“So,” Akio started, determination fading into uncertainty.  _ No, I’m doing this.  _ “I went there, and after telling me those sorts of generic stuff that you know, you get used to, she stopped, and started saying something else. ‘There’s a strong person in your life’,” he said, pouting with his lips and stretching his neck, as if making an impression of the hag. “‘They’re strong physically and they’re also determined, they have strength of will’, something like that. But what she said next, what she said next-”

“What did she say next?”

Akio furrowed his brow playfully and brought his knees to his chest, melting into a puddle of uncertainty.

“She said I’m in love with this person. And I think I am, yeah.”

“Oh,” Hiro said. Akio wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard disappointment in his voice. “Who is this person?”

Cute.

“Take a guess.”

Hiro bit his lip and started thinking, and Akio caught the exact moment when he noticed.

Fricking cute.

“Oh,” Hiro said. Akio was sure, there was a tone of surprise and happiness in his voice. He looked up, and Akio nodded.

“Yup.”

“Oh,” Hiro smiled, bright and wide and intense. Pure.

Cute.


End file.
